


In Moments

by hyperions



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Body Worship, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 18:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12940719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperions/pseuds/hyperions
Summary: Years apart have changed them, but all it takes is one night together again to remind them of the little things that matter.GLADNIS WEEK // DAY 4 ( sensory date night for ignis )





	In Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Just something small I wanted to write for Gladnis Week 2017 (:  
> This ship actually means a whole lot to me so obviously I had to contribute something!

Gladio tastes like smoke, whiskey, and pine; like the rugged edge of the outdoors and the steel of his blade. Ignis tastes like something akin to lavender and ice -- soft and soothing, but biting sharp somewhere in between. They revel in the privacy of these moments, these small and itimate moments scattered throughout devoted lives of service. In the dark of an empty hallway or the steps outside the Amicitia home, there are these coveted moments all hot mouths and teeth pulling lower lips for one more taste, one more moan dragged out between them. Sometimes it turns into something more -- into fingers pulling urgent at buttons and zips -- but sometimes, it's just this; just kissing in the dark and noses nudging fondness when their foreheads lean together and their breathing falls in-sync.

So when the world falls much darker -- for some more than others -- Gladio wonders what will come of any cherished moments. Their king sleeps and their time together falls thin of what it used to. Daemons need killing and the four Crownsguard need some time to themselves now that their world has fallen asunder. Still, Gladio takes pause when he hears rumors amongst the hunters' murmurs that a certain scarred warrior lingers briefly under the lights of Lestallum. It's been years since they've sat together, just the two of them. Might as well break that streak. There's a part of Gladio that knows Noctis wouldn't want them to stray too far for too long.

He finds him near the Leville getting ready to turn in for the night. He can already taste the tension in the air as well as see it stiffening the line of Ignis' shoulders as he walks. He looks like a man who doesn't want to be bothered, but Gladio's got different plans this time. They've had enough skirting the inevitable, so why make it awkward? They are friends, after all. Maimed, changed, tested... but friends. Always.

He knows Ignis can hear his footfalls and distinguish them from the rest as he steps up behind him at the bottom of the stairs. "Heard you were here," grumbles Gladio. He can see the tension tighten in the lean, slender slope of Ignis' shoulders before it's forced smooth again. It coaxes an ache in his chest tying itself into a knot between iron ribs. That knot twists harder when he hears his voice.

"You heard correct." Curt, calm, controlled. It hasn't changed apart from a roughened edge that he knows lines his own. Years spent hunting and hurting... And Ignis has been in the dark longer than the rest of them.  
Gladio steps closer, ends up at his side in a way that has his elbow nudging his so he can feel where he is. "...Thought we should catch up."

There's hesitation from Ignis, as though he's thinking of turning him away, but eventually he nods and continues up the staircase. "Of course. My room is just this way."

He follows him to the room he's rented for a few more days, says he doesn't like to stay in one place for too long. Gladio agrees, of course. There's a restlessness stirring hungry, wild that doesn't like the stagnant lull of savoring too much shelter for too long. It feels wrong, after all, to relax even for a moment when Noctis is still out there and the daemons slaughter travelers in droves. As they talk, it's apparent they agree on most of the new habits they've picked up in these distant paths they've chosen, but Gladio knew that already. They can be so different and yet so alike, as they were raised a sword and shield to be wielded in the hands of their king.

Eventually, though, their talk turns quiet. There's something there in the room with them -- the ghosts of what their lives used to be in the corners of the palace. It's not as though their feelings have cooled and staled, but it would've felt... inapropriate to continue when their charge lay in slumber beyond their aid. Still, Gladio feels an aged yearning swelling in that ache of his chest as he watches Ignis pull off his glasses to set them aside. The scars are still so vivid against pale skin Gladio knows is far too smooth for its own good beneath the rough pads of his fingertips.

He can't help himself. Can't help how one hand reaches out in tenderness to brush aside the hair that falls over pale-made eyes. Ignis doesn't flinch, just sighs and shakes his head. "Gladio--"  
Fingers travel the trace of a touch down from his ear to the edge of his jaw, the reminder of times past where the trail blazed hot into skin prickled eager. He has words caught in his throat, knowing they should stay wedged in the knot in his chest. But they breathe out low and quiet as Gladio's head bows an apology Ignis can't even see.

"Miss you."

Silence again. But as Gladio's hand retracts its touch, Ignis latches a hold on his wrist. Fingers tighten a squeeze and Gladio senses the softness sneaking into the calm of a voice that had once sighed his name.

"...As have I."

Ignis' lips part as though he has more to say, but Gladio's mouth covers his before he can manage. Nothing too rough, but there's that yearning again; the words _I miss you_  kissed tenderly into his lips far better than his voice had crafted. At first, Ignis fidgets with the contact he's unaccustomed to in the darkness that has become his life, but Gladio's rough palm cupping his cheek seems to soothe him, ground him. He knows this hand, knows this mouth -- knows the rugged taste of him that eases him closer into strong, thick arms.

It's different than it used to be. Gladio can feel the shyness anew trembling Ignis' lips between kisses as though it's their first time again all those years ago in the corner of the sparring chamber. Sensation is all he has, after all; nothing but blackness and a hot mouth on his and solid muscle pressing closer. And yet Ignis tangles fingers into the mane of Gladio's hair, tightening his grip there as they kiss to reassure him. It's when he breathes " _don't stop_ " against his lips that he knows he can guide him down along the bed and kiss him deeper, firmer into the mattress.

He can hear the shiver in Ignis' breath, can feel a shudder creep down the man's body as it arches up to the curve of his own. It must be so much, Gladio thinks; the potent touch of something hot, something strong, something urging him closer and closer into the dark. A covetous mouth, hands unbuttoning his shirt to splay fingers down skin untouched... Gladio pauses as though to let him breathe in the midst of the heated rush. But Ignis, sharp as ever, grabs for his neck and yanks him down again to crush their mouths together.

"I said _don't stop_." There's the crease of a smirk curling shakily against his own. "Or have you gone deaf?"

Gladio grins and resumes the hunger of their kiss, unabashed in an eagerness he can feel crackling electric between them. But if he's going to return them to those moments past, he's going to do it right.

He growls a chuckle against skin as his kisses smear clumsy from his mouth to the edge of his jaw and down the pale white of his throat. He sucks marks there, adorning flesh in new memories for the road and for Ignis to feel throbbing a fresh remnant of him when they next part ways. Gladio hears his breath hitch and feels the skin tense at first before relaxing, melting, beneath the path his mouth paves warm to the crook of his neck. His own voice rumbles a moan as he kisses lower to the ridge of his clavicle while hands part his shirt open to make way. He hears the scratch of his beard and the way it makes Ignis sigh - sigh like the lover he remembers propped up against the wall when they were young, fumbling, and clueless.

Gladio's kissing down his ribs now, growling his approval as he nuzzles rough along Ignis' stomach. He wants to paint his partner a picture with whatever he can; wants this to be a place Ignis can visit when the darkness threatens to swallow him whole even in the refuge of his mind's eye. It seems to be working because he hears an uncharacteristic whine catch in his throat as his tongue flicks an adoring lick along the dip of his naval. And he knows he can feel his mouth folding a smile along the kisses he presses lower, lower to the ridges of his hipbones.

Now Ignis has both hands in Gladio's hair, tightening as his hips lift automatically to the heat of Gladio's mouth. The bodyguard's hands have already peeled his pants down enough so that his kisses can continue and his teeth can even rake an adoring bite over the smoothness of one thigh.

"Ah--!"

Ignis still moves like he used to when he's teased -- far more young and graceless than his ice front leads on. It makes the back of Gladio's neck prickle and not just with the way Ignis' nails dig into it, urging him closer and closer and closer. Anticipation makes him moan just as wanting as Ignis does when he mouths over the hardness in his underwear, letting the wet heat of his kisses fold tempting through the fabric. It's enough to make the ever-composed tactician buck a frantic jerk of his hips and Gladio purr another sultry laugh. "Look who's impatient..."

But he indulges him, of course. How can he not when he lifts his head enough to look at the man sprawled flustered and disheveled below him? His hair is a mess, his neck flushed pink and sweat beading down the slope of his chest - a sight too perfect for words and enough to stall Gladio for just a moment more. _That's right, Iggy. Let me take care of you_.

He pulls down his underwear and takes the stiffness of his cock hot into his mouth. Ignis arches again, groaning within a gorgeous curve as he twists a tighter hold into Gladio's hair. It sounds like the first time in ages he's expressed anything besides cold composure; melting in moans beneath the bobbing of Gladio's head as he mouths him, sucks him. It's as he very slowly pulls him from his mouth with a " _pop_ " that Gladio realizes he himself can't take much more of this teasing. He's rock hard in his jeans and both of them clearly want more, _need_  more.

Ignis catches on as he always does and grabs with surprising (not so surprising) accuracy to yank off Gladio's shirt. How many times did he do that in his apartment back home that he must know the act by heart? He even helps him with both their pants and makes sure the contact never lifts between them. They kiss sloppier by the time Gladio fingers him open -- tender, yes, but with the roughened strokes that Ignis likes and makes him  _whine_  for him by the time he's ready.

Lust is a heavy hunger between them, thick like Gladio's cock cupped firm in Ignis' palm as though he's determined to remember every line and curve. It makes the king's shield huff a laugh and clutch Ignis' face close to his own. "Got me right where you want me, huh?"  
"Something like that," Ignis pants back before claiming another kiss of him - a kiss that coaxes a mutual moan between them as Gladio's hips shift and he presses into him.

It's been too long, they think in unison. It's been too long and even if their king sleeps and the world lies cloaked in chaos and shadow they deserve this moment to themselves. This moment -- just a moment -- where there is no darkness for either of them. A bloom of color in sensation, a wash of heat shared intimate between two people who piece together into one whole. And as Gladio moves in him, thrusts heavy and firm in a way that nearly bumps him into the headboard, Ignis really _does_  see him here in this place, this moment. It's as though it's clear as day: Gladio's broad hands keeping his legs apart, the roll of his hips, the sheer power of his weight over his, the thickness of him urged deeper --

" _Fuck_ \--!"  
Gladio grunts the closer they get together, moving harder with the mounting need between them. And Ignis is grabbing clumsy for his face to keep it close to his. Their foreheads are leaned together as they pant, as they moan so desperate for more and more of each other. They round that sweet crescendo and Gladio buries his face messy into the exposed curve of neck to bite his hold. Ignis arches hard up against him - this wall of muscle and strength - with a leg that hooks tight around his waist to drive them impossibly closer, just a little bit closer.

There is it: their moment. Another of many to clutch close and never let go. Another sliver of sanity in madness and turmoil. Another piece of themselves tucked like secret notes into each other's palms.

Gladio slumps against Ignis, but the latter doesn't mind the weight. In fact, he cradles him closer and strokes his fingers through sweaty hair so loving and tender that the ache in Gladio's chest practically has him swooning into his embrace. And he finally hears it, Ignis sighing " _Gladio_ " into his tousled hair.

They lie like that in silence for what could be an hour. Maybe two. Gladio doesn't care and even finds his eyelids heavy with the lull of sleep, tempting him into the solace of a night spent not as alone as the eternal darkness might hope for them both. He thinks he's okay with this - very okay with this because Ignis just cuddles him closer with no intentions of kicking him out.

It's as they both doze off together, more relaxed than they've been in years, that Gladio hears the softness of Ignis' voice breathed quiet, private, delicate in the dark.

"Thank you."

Gladio smiles as he falls asleep.


End file.
